


Crookshank, Loyal Defender of the House of Granger

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, Crookshanks is Genius, F/M, Kneazles know best, Viktor passes the Kneazle test.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:09:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: Crookshanks was taken in by his mistress when she was just twelve years old. For the last eight years, he's been watching over her and defending her as best as he can from all manner of dangers.... mostly stupid boys.But... perhaps there is one that he can approve of joining the Knights of the House of Granger.





	

His name is Crookshanks, so lovingly bestowed upon him by his mistress of three years when they’d first met so long ago. She’d come looking for an owl and instead had found in him a worthy companion. 

He’d sworn his allegiance to her noble house from that day forward. As a defender of that noble house of Granger, he was honor-bound to protect his mistress from ruffians such as this red-haired moron with freckles and a conniving Rat in his pocket.

“Get your bloody demon cat away from me!” He cried, which only seemed to make him scratch at the panicked freckled face harder and hiss his displeasure. 

It isn’t that he’s hard won. It’s just that Ron isn’t trustworthy. There was something shifty about him, much like the red head’s pet rat. He wasn’t good enough for his mistress, not could he ever be… He wished that she would see that, but she was so very kind and had a way of seeing around people’s faults. She’d certainly seen past his in that shop those years ago, peering right around his surly perusal of the people in the shop and straight to his intellect.

_ Don’t you have the most intelligent eyes? _ She’d asked peering into his cage as he regarded her. 

He thought she was beautiful, she smelled nice and more than that he had a good feeling about her. His captive had released him to her without much convincing and he’d taken his position as her familiar quite seriously.

“Crookshanks,” she said gently lifting the red-eyed cat off of Ron and petting him. “There’s a good boy, it’s okay.”

The dark haired one snorted and shook his head as he relaxed into his mistress's arms. He wasn’t so bad, Crookshanks might have even  _ approved _ of him if he was so inclined, if his mistress was so inclined. Harry snorted shaking his head as she soothed the cat until his eyes returned to their normal color burning yellow, no longer agitated by Ron. 

“There were are,” she said with a smile and then narrowed her eyes at Ron. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! Your bloody demon just doesn’t like me!” Ron said with a huff. “Probably just as mental as his owner.”

Crookshanks, along with his mistress, glared at the freckled head boy. His body thrummed with the need to pounce and claw his face off all over again. 

The black haired one, Harry, his mistress’s human subject, gasped looking at the two of them glaring at the red haired pauper who didn’t know his place. He should have been grateful that his mistress would even  _ deign _ to speak with him once, let alone for the last three years. That she deemed him worthy her rather shy affections. 

It made him growl a little, enjoying the way the pauper flinched. 

“There there Crookshanks,” she said gently, stroking up until his purring seemed less agitated. “He won’t say it again, I’m sure.”

The fool does, in fact, say it again a few days later while his mistress is not to be found. He was sure that not even her gentle brown hands could have soothed him until the idiot’s face was bloody and he’d been taught a lesson. Somehow, Harry had managed to save the pauper by getting him out of the room and leaving Crookshanks in the common room alone to await his mistress’s return. 

When his mistress arrived smelling of a very different fellow, Crookshanks waited patiently for her to tell him what was going on. There was the scent of the wind, the salty sea, fresh cut grass and something else there on her robes, on her books. She smiled a little dreamily, smelled happy and while he would have liked to have met this stranger in her life now, he was well-suited to wait. 

This one smelled much better than the pauper after all. Though it lasted a full year, the pages that smelled like this stranger still came at regular intervals. He could not read the ink on the pages but from his mistresses' face and the smooth strokes of her brown hands on his fur, he knew that this one would be the one, a mister for his mistress. 

Thus, when he met the blonde one made of curls, height, and the smell of broom polish, he was quite happy to shred his clothes, though not his face. The pauper made him the angriest, this one simply seemed to annoy and confuse his mistress. He thought it might be easier if he was already naked so she wouldn’t be confused about it, but apparently, the blonde one was not meant to stay for long. 

The sea-scented stranger however… his scent was fading on the old letters, refreshed and changing with the newer ones. They smelled of turmoil, of sadness and longing, but not once did they smell suspicious.

“Hello,” a different voice said as Crookshanks paraded down the hall after a visit with Ms. Norris. He looked up at the platinum blonde one. 

There was something dark to him, something different, but he didn’t smell like Ron. 

“Aren’t you a bit far away from your mistress?” he asked kneeling to pet Crookshanks gently and take a look at his collar. 

“Crookshanks…” he read. “You’re Granger’s cat? The one who clawed up Weasel’s face--”

“Crookshanks!”

The man turned as Crookshanks padded off towards his mistress, stopping to wait in the center of the corridor as she came down. 

“I was so worried about you,” she said, scooping him up. 

“Quite a handful that one, Granger,” the platinum blond, pale one said. 

She pressed him protectively towards her chest, “And what would you know about Crookshanks?”

“He’s good people,” he said off-handedly and her scent changed just a bit with confusion before he purred, drawing her attention. 

“Malfoy gets along with that demon, eh?” The pauper said coming up and careful to stay a good deal away from them. “I suppose pure evil and pure evil attract one another.”

Crookshanks took great pleasure in clawing through the pauper’s bedsheets and drapes so the pauper woke up in shreds the next morning. 

“That cat is evil,” he said coming down to breakfast. “I know he did it!”

Hermione looked up from her seat on the Common Room couch with Crookshanks in her lap. 

“Now what Ronald?”

*

It seemed to be a great deal of time between then and now. His mistress had been gone for at least a year leaving him with another red-haired woman, different than the others. They played and such, but it was not the same. 

He should have been where his mistress was, defending her from all manner of ruffians. Thus, when she returned a good deal taller, a good deal more filled out with the scent of blood and war on the edges of her scent, he padded up to her on the couch, leaped into her lap and lay down. 

She smiled, stroking his hair, “I missed you too, Crookshanks… It’s… it’s all over now.”

He remained at her side when she returned to the large castle, when she went off to Healing School, usually occupying a bit of her desk while she studied. Sometimes, he counted the days by how many books she read, how much magic had seeped into her clothes, how many smiles. 

There weren’t as many as there used to be. He wondered if perhaps the sea-scented stranger had stopped sending his papers to her. 

That was until they started arriving again and all at once she seemed to have found her will to smile again. Crookshanks left her alone to read the rather lengthy pages while she took a break from studying. It seemed another year before the small flat that they now lived in had a sufficient concentration of the sea-scented stranger’s scent and her happiness. 

Today, an extra paper came. It smelled like the pauper. Crookshanks sat on it, hoping to wash away the other’s stench while pawing at the one that smelled like the sea, pushing it towards Hermione. 

“Crookshanks,” she said with an indulgent smile, before lifting him up to retrieve the letter.  “Good kitty. I know you and Ron have never seen eye-to-eye but he did help save the wizarding world and he’s a friend.”

He purred, non-commitally as she opened the letters when a knock sounded on her door. Her heart sped up and Crookshanks lifted himself onto his legs to watch the door, leaping down to follow his mistress into battle. 

She was afraid, alert, she hadn’t smelled like this unless she was waking up screaming. Together, they crept towards the door and from beyond it, he heard a small, deep, weak voice.

“... _ mione… _ ”

She frowned and waved her wand as Crookshanks scented the air coming from under the door. 

Blood, pain, and the faintest scent of the sea. Crookshanks moved back hastily as his mistress opened the door only to release the full scent into the room. 

The sea-scented stranger was there and hurt, curling into himself and clutching the wound that leaked blood. He looked a great deal different than the other men who’d come in, met with Crookshanks claws, and left. He was broader with olive skin, dark hair and eyes. His nose was slightly hooked and a bit crooked, but all in all Crookshanks approved. 

Yes, this was the mister for his mistress. This sea-scented one that had made her so happy. 

“ _ Hermione, _ ” he slurred.

She moved as Crookshanks padded over to the table. She kneeled to help get him inside and to the couch before closing the door.

“Viktor?” She asked looking down at him and trying to see into his eyes. 

_ Viktor, _ Crookshanks thought. It was a good name, not as good as Granger, but a good name.

“M-mila… I…”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I have you. It’s okay.”

Crookshanks, ever the observer watched from the coffee table as she treated him, so very gently, pressing a hand to his forehead and summoning her emergency kit from her room. Her hands were sure, quick with her stick and slowly the scent of relief overpowered fear. 

It seemed that the sea-scented  _ Viktor _ would survive.

Good, because he couldn’t very well have the one he intended for his mistress to be dead. That wouldn’t be good at all.

“Shh,” she soothed, tipping a bottle of liquid into his mouth. “Good… it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

His eyes swam, his lips tilting to smile at her a little bit, “S-Surprise.”

She chuckled, “Quite a surprise.”

Viktor smiled, soothed by her touch and practically melting into the couch and into sleep. She turned to Crookshanks with a smile and blood on her hands, “Don’t claw him, Crook’. Okay?”

He meowed something by way of a snort. He only clawed those who deserved it. His mistress shook her head and turned to leave mumbling about how he would do as he pleased no matter what she said. He would only do what he pleased if it was in her best interest.  She returned with a blanket and Crookshanks remained at the man’s bedside, monitoring the way his scent changed as he slept. She pet Crookshanks gently and told him not to stay up too late contemplating world domination before waving her stick around so that the couch lengthened and widened to fit his long frame before leaving to wash up and go to bed.

This Viktor woke up sometime in the night, startled until Crookshanks leaped onto his chest and settled his weight there. Dark eyes looked at him and he tried to get up. Crookshanks stuck out a paw and pressed his weight until the man laid back. He purred and lay down on top of him. This Viktor may try to escape with his injuries and his mistress would not be happy about it. He’d have to stand guard it seemed. 

“Thank you,” Viktor said stroking the cat’s fur. 

Crookshanks purred. It was rare to find someone he could allow to pet him and pet him just right. Viktor’s hands were large and warm with just the right pressure to soothe them both to sleep.

*

When his mistress wakes up in the morning, her heart is hammering and he can hear her leaping out of bed to check on them both. Perhaps she was startled by the fact that Crookshanks wasn’t sleeping on her bed like he usually did. 

Unfortunately, there were other duties he had to attend for the sake of her happiness. She would understand. 

“Oh gods, the Quidditch world would murder me if Crookshanks scratched him,” she said as she came out of her quarters.

He turned back to waiting outside the door, watching after his charge rather seriously as she hissed his name urgently.

“Crookshanks?”

She came into the living room and froze at the sight of the empty, clean couch. She turned just as Viktor opened the door and stepped into the hallway mostly naked save the towel around his waist. Crookshanks looked up at the man with a purr. 

“Good Crookshanks,” Viktor said, kneeling. “Looking after me while your, mistress sleeps…”

She moved towards them as Viktor pet him gently and lifted him from the floor to walk down the hallway.

“Viktor…”

He looked at Crookshanks’s mistress and the cat could hear the smile in his voice, “Good Morning, Hermione. Have woken you?”

She shook her head, “How… how are you doing that?”

“What?”

“Crookshanks has only ever liked one member of the male species, Harry that is… and maybe Draco... How are you doing that?”

“Crookshanks is half-Kneazle, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Kneazles know people’s hearts,” he said, stroking Crookshanks. “Know when others are false.”

She blinked and looked into Crookshanks’ calm yellow eyes as he relaxed in Viktor’s arms, enjoying the attention. He wanted to tell her that  _ yes _ Viktor’s arms were that comfortable and he smelled really good too. Different than years ago, still worlds better than the pauper. 

“Kneazles are also very loyal to their owners,” he said. “Is very intelligent, find equal in you.”

She nodded watching them a little in awe considering that Crookshanks had a history of clawing faces off of males. He was quite relaxed in Viktor’s arms until he set him down on the ground and then only padded away to give them some privacy. 

They would need it to deal with the way their scents were shifting while they were around one another. 

*

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked. “What happened?”

“Angry fans, attack me in alley,” he said. “Beat their team.”

Hermione winced, “The fanatics have gotten more dangerous it seems.”

Viktor nodded with a smile, “I… should get dressed, yes?”

Hermione stammered and nodded, hurrying into the kitchen to distract herself from the fact that a very delicious man was getting dressed in her house somewhere. 

“So what brought about the surprise?” Hermione asked off-handedly. “I thought your game in London wasn’t for another two months or so.”

Viktor came around the corner, still in his towel with a smile, “It seems that Crookshanks does not like my clothes…on me at least.”

Hermione winced and she moved to see what he was talking about. Crookshanks had pulled together Viktor’s clothing and occupied them with the full weight of his body. Hermione gave him a hopeless look as Viktor regarded her. 

“Kneazle follow owner’s orders.”

She huffed, “I did not order him to sit on your clothes.”

“Not… directly,” Viktor teased looking at her as her eyes darted around his bare shoulders and she stepped back. 

A distinctly hunted feeling rose in her chest as she stepped back. 

“I… Viktor….”

“You like this, yes? Naked?”

“You have a towel on.”

“Could fix.”

Hermione shrieked, grabbing his wrist to stop him, “When did you… b-become so forward?”

“When beautiful woman look at me like meat… and is also of age.”

Hermione blinked, lost for a moment before her jaw dropped at his twinkling eyes. She heard the towel drop and froze. His eyes daring her to look down, daring her to do it, wanting--

Viktor laughed, his head tossed back as she swatted his shoulder, “You prat!”

Viktor stood in perfectly good basketball shorts, disillusioned under the towel and now revealed.

“Would have liked better to be naked?”

“W-Well… that’s beside the point!”

Viktor picked up the towel, laughed and released her glad to have broken the ice before following her into the kitchen make breakfast at her side. 

“If better, am...commando,” he said grinning. 

Hermione threw a handful of flour in his face for his insolence. It feels a bit like fourth year all over again, taking over part of the Hogwarts kitchen and making the pieces of their picnic together.

“You’re such a prat sometimes,” Hermione huffed as they settled on the clean couch, leaning together in an uncannily comfortable way. “Is my cat actually sitting on your bloody clothing?”

“Ne,” he said between a bite of bacon. “Are clean, but he take them anyway.”

Hermione shook her head, “I still can’t understand it.”

“Crookshanks know I would not hurt you,” Viktor said. “Great Defender of Granger House.”

Hermione looked up at him and nodded, “I… I know that.”

He looked at her and smiled, “Da?”

She nodded, wondering for the first time if Crookshanks had really only just been following her cues or simply showing her that he also didn’t approve.

“Hermione.”

She turned her head to look up at Viktor. 

“Have question…”

“Yes?”

“Would allow me to court you?”

She blinked, “What?”

“Have come to London to ask this,” he said. “Now that you are… of age and free, make sense?”

Hermione gave a wry smile, “By… being half naked.”

“Think distraction for very fast brain necessary.”

Hermione scoffed as he took her hand, “Think, yes?”

Hermione shook her head, “I’d love to.”

He smiled, “Is because am naked?”

“Actually, it’s because my cat likes you. Means I have one less argument to have about my obvious favoritism.”

Viktor blinked but before long it was just too hard not to laugh. Yes, he could handle being second to Crookshanks if only because he wanted to join the ranks of being a very loyal defender of the House of Granger…

Hell, he might have been one all along.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [surly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135946) by [syari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syari/pseuds/syari)




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